


Out Of Season

by WandersUnderStarlight



Series: Perennial [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Feral Behavior, M/M, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandersUnderStarlight/pseuds/WandersUnderStarlight
Summary: Jazz is sparkling sitting. And an altercation on patrol has unexpected consequences for Prowl.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl, Ricochet/OC
Series: Perennial [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/993978
Comments: 34
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter One

“Ya’re lucky ya’re cute, ya know tha’?” Jazz said rhetorically to the sparkling he currently had balanced on his hip as he walked through the colorful and cheerfully decorated streets.

Bumblebee twittered and clicked happily in response. Tiny black hands reached up to pat Jazz’s faceplates. His little, horn-crowned yellow helm twisted this way and that, taking in the new and interesting sights. Just how had Ricochet managed to have such a cute bitlit? Jazz decided to give most of the credit to his brother’s bondmate. 

Only a few short vorns ago Ricochet had (finally) officially bonded to Concord and then proceeded to sire the most adorable sparkling to ever be budded (but Jazz might be biased). The fact that Bumblebee was a mini-bot was no surprise to Ricochet or his Iaconi bondmate. Polyhexians tended to be on the small side and Concord had some mini-bot code in his carrier’s line. 

Yeah, it was definitely Concord who was responsible for Bumblebee’s cuteness. Jazz chuckled, despite himself. The sparkling cooed contentedly at the sound. Then he got distracted by a some bunting that fluttered overhelm; clicking, chirping and reaching for the bright meshes.

All of Cybertron, it seemed, was holding a huge summer festival for a decacycle. All of the leaders from major city-states had been invited to Iacon to attend what was fast becoming the grandest uniting gesture made by the Prime in millennia. Finally, there was a true Matrix chosen mech who had seen the distressing social divides even before he had ascended. 

It had taken orns of painstaking diplomatic work for some of the most desperate city-states and pocket communities to trust the new Prime enough to start the positive changes. And those had only really started after Optimus had risked his own safety to visit Kaon personally. Appealing to its ruling warlord, a gladiator who had fought his way up from the pits to rule the city-state.

Rumor was that the mech had been impressed by Optimus’ bravery, moved by his sincere wish to better the lives of every Cybertronian and dazzled by the new Prime’s Iaconian beauty. 

Personally, Jazz thought that was probably a highly romanticised version of their first meeting, but it was the prevailing story amongst the gossipers. The speculations about the relationship were only fueled with Megatron’s arrival to Iacon. His entourage had brought Kaon’s finest ores, refined into the most amazing artistic pieces. Some of which were speculated to be made by his own servos. Some of which looked very much like courting gifts.

Since all the city leaders were attending the huge celebration in Iacon, things had quickly spiraled into each city-state holding its own festival to honor the occasion.

With Ricochet working for the Iaconi Enforcers and Concord working as one of the aids to the Prime himself, they’d be very busy in the upcoming decacycle. And when Jazz had gone to visit in the cycles just before the festivals, Ricochet had turned his pleading visor on Jazz once again. 

Oh, wouldn’t you _know_ it, the sparkling-sitter they had lined up cancelled during the time of the festival. Wouldn’t Jazz _please_ take the bitlit to Praxus with him during the cycles of the celebration? Their creators were all so busy right now, too, and both Ricochet and Concord would feel _so_ much better if little Bumblebee was safely with a family member.

Ah, yes, the manipulative glitch that was his brother. Likely, Ricochet had been tasked with finding the sitter and had forgotten. Concord’s convenient absence during the conversation only convinced Jazz of that possibility.

Not that he minded sparkling-sitting his sweet little nephew, he just hadn’t particularly planned on it this decacycle. He’d planned on making massive amounts of tips at the club where he worked with all the excitement brought on by the festival. 

Oh well. He could still enjoy the festival, he’d just have to get Guild and Compress some really nice gifts for covering his shifts for him during the booming business they were bound to get. 

They understood that family came first.

So he’d let Ricochet and Concord fill up his subspace and load him down with several subspace generators full of things for the bitlit. Then he and Bee had boarded the next transport home. 

He hadn’t had the chance to see Prowl before the start of the festival after he and Bee had arrived at their apartment. 

Their apartment. The thought still made him smile even though they’d been living together for orns now. Very soon after Concord had sent out the message that he was with spark, Prowl had asked Jazz to move in with him. The apartment was modest, but homey and comfortable. 

The Praxian Enforcer was quite busy with the security preparations for the city-wide celebration. Jazz had resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably only see the mech in passing at their apartment for most of the next decacycle. But he couldn’t be mad at Prowl for his dedication. It was one of the things Jazz loved about him.

Jazz managed to catch Prowl with a vid call before he’d gone on shift that cycle and Jazz had been treated to the sight of the normally taciturn mech nearly cooing at Jazz’s sparkling nephew. Prowl was always delightfully soft when it came to bitlits. And he had adored Bumblebee since the first moment he’d laid optics on him. 

Coming back to the present, Jazz smiled, adjusting Bumblebee higher up on his hip. “Alrigh’ lil Bee, let’s see wha’ trouble we can get in t’. ‘Ow does tha’ sound?” 

The tiny mini-bot whistled happily and clapped his little servos.

They perused the many stalls set up by local vendors for the festival. Bumblebee burbled merrily, optics riveted by the rainbows of wearable meshes and crystals. There were stalls filled with servo-made waxes and polishes, beautifully rendered paintings of different spots in Praxus, and many other crafts. Jazz bought them little treats made of soft jellied energon sprinkled with silver, chuckling as Bumblebee tried to stuff the whole thing into his mouth with gusto.

About a joor later Jazz got a frantic comm. call from Smokescreen.

:Jazz! Have you seen Prowl?!:

Jazz frowned in confusion. :Um, no? I’m pretty sure ‘e’s supposed t’ be on patrol with ya.:

:Frag my life!: Smokescreen cursed.

The Polyhexian felt the first stirrings of worry. :Wha’s happenin’?:

The other bot explained hurriedly, :We got into an altercation with some troublemakers while patrolling the festival. Prowl got hit on the helm pretty badly and then the fragger shot him with a taser! When I tried to help him, he snarled at me and ran away. I think something got knocked loose. He was acting like a Long Patrol mech.:

Jazz felt a flash of horror, :Oh Primus.:

:We’re trying to figure out where he could have gone. If he has reverted to basic, then, well…:

:Protect the mate.: Jazz finished for him, feeling a prickle of unease.

:Yeah… Oh, the Chief’s gonna deactivate me! Barricade’s gonna deactivate me! Worse… Prowl’s gonna deactivate me!:

:Calm down, mech. Look, I ain’t seen ‘im. Don’t mean ‘e ain’t around, though.: Jazz said, vividly remembering Prowl dropping down out of the crystal trees. Reflexively, he looked up through the decorations criss-crossing the buildings, but there was no tell-tale sign of white doorwings on the rooftops. He spoke to the panicking Praxian again, :Okay. I’mma go home an’ see if ‘e shows up. Should I call Medic Torque if ‘e does?:

:Yeah, yes. You should do that.: Smokescreen sounded distracted. :I gotta, uh, deal with the bystanders… Frag.:

:A’ight. I’ll keep ya updated. Ya do th’ same fo’ me ‘kay?:

:I will.:

They ended the call and Jazz fretted silently, worrying his bottom derma with his denta. Bumblebee twittered curiously, picking up on his mood from his EMF. The sparkling patted Jazz’s faceplates again.

Jazz smiled despite his anxiety. “I’m a’ight, baby Bee. We jus’ gotta cut our fun a lil’ short an’ go home fo’ a bit, okay?” He started walking again, heading to the apartment.

Blissfully ignorant, Bumblebee beeped happily.

Back home, Jazz entered the apartment and immediately stopped just inside the closed door. The lights were out, the only faint illumination coming from the curtain covered windows. Furniture had been pushed around. Here and there small knick-knacks were scattered about the floor. 

As he was surveying this, a pair of icy blue optics lit from the darkened doorway leading to the hall from the living room. A soft growl sounded, making the plating on Jazz’s back prickle.

A horrible thought flashed through his processor for half a klik; what if Prowl didn’t recognize him at all? 

Bravely he spoke gently, “‘Ey sweetspark, it’s jus’ me an’ Bee, yeah?”

The growl pitched up into a short, confused trill. Prowl stepped out of the dark hallway into the dimly lit living room, soft light limning his white armor. Jazz suppressed a wince, there was a visible dent in the crown of Prowl’s helm. Still, even an injury that size shouldn’t have knocked him into a feral state. Primus knew, Ricochet had suffered far worse dents to the helm and been unchanged.

No. It must have been a combination of the injury and the taser that scrambled Prowl’s circuits.

“Easy Prowl.” Jazz said, making an effort to keep his voice modulated at a low soothing level. “I know ya gotta be hurtin’ from that wack t’ th’ helm.”

The growl turned into a purr, Prowl’s optics deepening to a happy cerulean. Doorwings flared out and down with ease. Jazz relaxed slightly. Prowl _did_ recognize him.

Bumblebee chirped.

Prowl’s optics flashed and settled on the sparkling in Jazz’s arms. The bitlet recognized one of his favorite adults and reached out with a happy twitter. The air caught in Jazz’s vents as Prowl stalked forward. Then, ever-so-gently he pressed his faceplates into the sparkling's servos.

“Purrr. Click, click, click.”

“Tweet. Beep!”

_...the frag?_


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snuggles and a call to the medic...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo is great for getting things finished quickly.

After greeting Bumblebee, Prowl had nuzzled Jazz (and given him a few playful nips to the audial horn) and then gently prodded him into the berthroom. It looked like he’d confiscated all of the meshes they owned and made a deep nest in their berth. He’d probably made it so he could metaphorically lick his wounds in comfort.

Jazz had been coaxed into the nest, Bumblebee still held securely in his arms. Prowl had taken a while to tuck and arrange the meshes to his liking around the two of them. Bumblebee started pulling up one of the meshes to play peek-a-boo. Every time he covered his face, Prowl would patiently pull it away. The sparkling had giggled happily, excited by this new game.

Prowl purred the whole time. Then he climbed into the berth with them, shuffling them around until Jazz was laying on his side with Prowl laying behind him, cheekridge pressed to the top of his helm. Jazz was keeping an optic on Bumblebee who was playing within arms reach, but fairly swimming in the extra meshes gleefully.

_Well, this is a familiar predicament._

Belatedly, Jazz remembered he should call Medic Torque.

After Jazz had explained what had happened since he got home (Torque had already spoken to Smokescreen and had the information on the original incident), he was both miffed and relieved when Torque chuckled lightly.

:Somethin’ funny?: Jazz asked, slightly on edge. 

Prowl huffed at the quick flare of Jazz’s EMF, but didn’t move from his spot.

:I’m relieved, really. This is actually an easy fix.:

:It is? Tha’s good.:

:Yes, though it’s even easier because it’s you.:

:Wha’?:

:Ah, let me explain. You see, self repair will take care of the dent. You were correct in you hypothesis that it was never the dent that caused the, uh, “feral” state. But to get Prowl back to normal he’s going to need another, er, shock to the system.: 

:Wha’ does tha’ mean?: 

:Well, there are currently two options. Myself and some of their Enforcers could come in, restrain him and give him another taser shock, which will definitely stress his systems and cause a violent reaction,:

:Ya call tha’ an’ _easy_ fix?!: Jazz spluttered.

Torque continued as if Jazz hadn’t interrupted. :Or since the two of you are already intimate, you could facilitate a medicinal overload to achieve the same result.:

Prowl grumbled and raised his helm at the suddenly bolt of shock that went through Jazz’s field. When nothing materialized as the cause of said shock, Prowl snuggled back down again. Jazz suddenly felt like the universe was laughing at him. It certainly sounded like the medic was holding back a few laughs.

:Medicinal… overload? Did you just make that up?:

:Of course not. There are several ailments that can be treated with it.:

:Righ’... So it’s either tha’ or a taser.:

:Afraid so,: Torque said, not unkindly. :That’s why I said you being there was a good thing. You’re in a committed relationship. The two of you have interfaced before; and before you ask, I’m a medic I can tell; and he trusts you, so he’ll be calm, which will only help his system reset.:

:Huh… so… doctors orders?:

Torque chuckled again. :If you want to think of it that way, then yes: doctors orders.:

:Okay, then. What should I expect?:

_Primus this is awkward._

:Once the overload has been achieved, he should drop into a reboot. Don’t be alarmed, his systems are so out of whack it will happen regardless, and it needs to happen for the reset. He’ll be out for a bit, no more than half a joor, and then should come around. I’m going to put him on medical leave, effective immediately. He needs time to recalibrate, just like after the hard reboot at the end of the Long Patrol. At least two cycles. See if you can convince him to take three.:

:Have you dealt with this before?: Jazz asked incredulously.

:Yes, but not with a mech who’s acting so calm. Huh, now that I think about it, it may be because Prowl was a Long Patrol mech that is making this so easy. His neural pathways were already primed to compensate for an injury like this… hmmm… anyway, I digress, if you have any concerns, don’t be afraid to call me.:

:A’ight.:

:Good luck, Jazz. I will inform Smokescreen that Prowl is with you and the situation is under control. And , er, I’ll leave out the specifics shall I?:

Then Torque hung up before Jazz could snap back at him. 

Jazz sighed, prompting a comforting rumble from the mech behind him. Bumblebee looked up at the sound, optics dimmed tiredly.

“Twitter, tweet?”

“Click, clickity, click.”

“Are ya actually talkin’ t’ ‘im or are ya jus’ making noises?” Jazz asked, amused.

“Puuuuurrrrrrr.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, mech.”

Prowl grumbled discontentedly when Jazz shifted to get up.

“None o’ tha’, now. I’mma put Bee down fo’ a nap.” He didn’t know if Prowl could even understand him, but the mech didn’t try to keep him in the berth when Jazz got up and picked up the sparkling and an extra mesh. The Praxian did roll, rather gracelessly, out of the berth and followed Jazz when he headed for the spare room where he’d set up the sparkling berth earlier that cycle.

Bumblebee twittered sleepily and snuggled down into the tiny berth when Jazz tucked him in. He was such an easy sparkling to take care of. Jazz crooned a soft lullaby until his little optics powered off and he fell into recharge.

Prowl purred from behind Jazz, arms encircled him and skittered over his bumper and chestplates. The Praxian nuzzled into his neck cables. Jazz vents hitched; he could almost pretend that Prowl was just his normal self. He was always more physically affectionate in the privacy of their home.

Then Jazz got nipped. Again.

He and Prowl were definitely going to have a talk (when he could talk again) about how _bitey_ he was in this state.

_Well, no time like the present. The sooner I can get Prowl back to normal, the better it will be. I just hope this is okay._

He turned in the circle of Prowl’s arms, leaned up and gently kissed the feral mech. Prowl stilled for a klik, but either he remembered this form of affection or he was a quick learner. 

Jazz slowly pulled back only to have Prowl follow in an attempt for prolonged contact. He placed a stalling servo on the mech’s chestplate and murmured, “C’mon Prowler, not in front o’ th’ bitlet, yeah?”

He stepped back and led the other back to their berthroom. Prowl walked behind, still softly purring, servos touching wherever they could reach on Jazz’s frame. Jazz felt both slightly guilty and nervous. He hoped Prowl wouldn’t be mad at him for this.

At the moment, Prowl seemed to be thrilled that they were heading for the berth. His field flared out amorously and he quickly joined Jazz in the nest of meshes when the Polyhexian sat down. Jazz barely had a chance to vent before Prowl’s dermas were on him again. The Praxian loomed over him, slowly pushing him down into a supine position. Their fans were both running fast.

Prowl’s dermas moved up to Jazz’s audial horns, venting hotly against the sensitive metal. Jazz bit back a moan. As much as he was worried about consent, Prowl was acting pretty damn enthusiastic.

The sound of a micro transformation and the brightening of the space between them caused Jazz to jerk back slightly. He stared stupidly for a few kliks before what had happened penetrated his fuzzy processors.

Prowl had opened his chestplates.

_Prowl had opened his chestplates!_

Jazz tamped down his panic. He and Prowl had interfaced before, but they had kept it to tactile and hardline. Sparkmerging, even on a minor level, had been something they both had not felt ready for. He couldn’t let their first time doing that be like _this_. 

That’s what was running through the major part of his processor, though there was one tiny little part that kept looking at the beautiful bluey corona surrounding the golden spark casing that was stuck in a loop of, _so pretty..._

There was a way he could bring Prowl to overload without merging and without seeming like he was rejecting the mech. Whenever (if ever) they decided to merge, he wanted Prowl to be fully present and on board. Jazz brought his servos up and cautiously ran his digits through the shimmering carona. Prowl tensed, snarling, though it didn’t sound like an _unhappy_ snarl. Jazz was suddenly swamped by Prowl’s EMF. Arousal, possessiveness, and unbridled affection washed over and through him as if it were his own.  
It was the same. The same mix of emotions he felt in Prowl’s field every time he said… he said…

“I love ya, too.” Jazz whispered.

The Praxian leaned forward, obscuring Jazz’s vision. He nuzzled Jazz’s chestplates. When Jazz didn’t open them, he laved his glossa along the seam and lightly nibbled along the racing stripes.

Even though he couldn’t see, Jazz felt his way to Prowl’s spark casing and gently ran his digits over and over the golden sphere. He could feel the tiny seams with his sensitive digit tips. Prowl’s doorwings swept up and flared out over his helm. A growl rattled against Jazz’s chestplates. The casing transformed away underneath Jazz’s digits and he accidentally brushed them across Prowl’s spark. Bolts of pleasure shot through Jazz’s servos. Prowl froze, engine roaring. Snarls of electricity flowed over Prowl’s frame originating from his chest. The Praxian fell on top of Jazz, a sudden dead weight.

The echo of the overload lashed against Jazz’s frame making him gasp, but he kept his helm and managed to pull away his servos as Prowl’s spark casing, and then chestplates, closed back up. 

Jazz laid on the berth pinned down by Prowl’s weight. He wound his arms around Prowl’s waist and panted, opening his vents fully to get cool air into his systems. He willed down his charge, hoping that it would eventually dissipate. He tried to settle down and grab a bit of recharge for himself, but the worry for Prowl and his higher than normal charge kept him awake.

Just as his chronometer informed him that half a joor was approaching, Prowl began to stir. Jazz ran his servos soothingly up and down Prowl’s spinal strut as the Praxian slowly booted up.

Prowl raised his helm and looked around, confused.

“How did I-?” His optics flickered. He froze, then groaned in mortification; helm thunking back down on Jazz’s chestplates. “I growled at Smokescreen...”

Jazz laughed in relief. “Good t’ have ya back, sweetspark.”

“When I catch up to those miscreants, they’re getting charged with assaulting an officer.” He grumbled.

“Ya leave tha’ t’ Smokescreen, yeah? Pretty sure ya got th’ next few cycles off.”

“Barricade will never let me live this down.” He mumbled forlornly into Jazz’s chestplates.

“Are ya feelin’ a’ight?” Jazz asked, continuing to run his servos up and down Prowl’s back.

Prowl’s helm jerked up, optics bright with distress. “Am _I_ feeling alright? What about you?! I assaulted you!”

“Ya didn’t, I promise.” Jazz objected. “Ya needed a shock t’ reset yar systems. If anybot assaulted anybot it was-”

“No!” Prowl looked away, awkwardly. Embarrassment radiated out from him. “I was, um, having a good time. I would have agreed if I’d had the ability.”

“Tha’s a load off my processor.” Jazz said honestly.

“...but I did try to merge with you.”

“Ain’t somethin’ I would mind, bu’ I would like t’ talk ‘bout it first.”

Prowl looked back at him, reassured. He leant down and gave Jazz a short, chaste kiss. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Pretty sure ya saved my life.”

Prowl’s engine purred, softer, but reminiscent of his rumbling purr in the feral state. His doorwings swept out and forward. “...You’re still running a little warm…” Prowl’s optics dimmed coyly, “I could… take care of that for you?”

Jazz chuckled and stretched sinuously against Prowl’s frame. “I s’pose we should take advantage o’ our alone time ‘fore Bumblebee wakes back up.”

“I would like that.”

Prowl was a little restless for the remainder of the cycle. Not-quite pacing, but definitely moving about the apartment in fits and starts. 

Recalibrating, Torque had said.

Jazz remembered that there had been a bit of time after the hard reboot from the Long Patrol proper when Prowl had acted in a similar fashion. On guard and watchful. He was just a little bit wild, just a little bit… twitchy. It wasn’t just aimless, though. Prowl’s doorwings were doing that up-down motion they did when he was thinking hard about something.

Hopefully it would only last half a cycle or so, rather than the decacycle it took to subside that first winter they met since he’d only been running on base code for a couple joors.

Jazz had sat himself on the couch (which Prowl had moved back into its proper place) with a now awake Bumblebee on his lap. The little minibot twittered cheerfully as he watched Prowl move around the room.

“Somethin’ on yar processor, sweetspark?” Jazz asked on Prowl’s ninth circuit of the living room.

Prowl hesitated for a few kliks, then gave a little sigh, deliberately loosening his plating. He sat down next to Jazz. Bumblebee whistled at him and the Praxian gently reached over to lightly tickle his midsection with a small smile. The sparkling chortled and squealed.

When Bumblebee had settled down again Prowl said, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

Jazz couldn’t help but tease, “I noticed.”

Prowl gave him a look that was equal parts unimpressed and amused. Jazz grinned and gestured for him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” he said again, “for a while, actually. And… I think I’m finally ready to talk to you about it.”

“Yeah? Wha’s up?”

“When I was… feral, they only thing I still sort of recognized was… you. And Bumblebee. A little bit. It was like, I knew he was ours, but wasn’t; if that makes sense?”

“Ya knew ‘e was family, but not creation, I get it.”

“Yes, but I… wanted him to be ours. That was why I was so, uh, enthusiastic when we… um…”

He was so adorably shy that Jazz couldn’t help by lean over and kiss him. Bumblebee giggled.

Prowl was smiling again by the time Jazz pulled back. “Anyway, I wanted you to know because that was the only way I found my way back to the apartment. I sort of remembered it was where you would be. And I knew that I would be safe with you. Because…” The Praxian looked deep into Jazz’s optical band and took one of his servos into his own, “because you are home to me.” 

Jazz’s vents stuttered. “Prowl?”

Prowl let go of Jazz’s servo just long enough to reach into his subspace and pull out a sleek, palm-sized box. He opened it and then retook Jazz’s servo with one servo while holding the open box with the other. A delicate white and black magnetic badge set with a large sapphire and vermillion accents rested on a bed of black mesh.

“Jazz, would you do me the honor of becoming my Conjunx Endurae, and bond with me?”

Bumblebee beeped in alarm as Jazz nearly squashed him in his enthusiasm as he surged forward to hug Prowl chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!” But once he got over his consternation, the flood of joy pouring out from Jazz’s EMF made the sparkling laugh gleefully.  
Jazz could barely sit still to let Prowl affix the badge to the back of his servo (the traditional spot for it). Bumblebee immediately got distracted by the new shiny thing and patted his tiny servos on it.

“I’ve had this for a few orns,” Prowl admitted softly, “but was working up the courage to bring it up with you. Please… please don’t tell Barricade it took me going feral again to propose to you. He’s been goading me since I bought the badge.” 

“It’s our secret, sweetspark.” Jazz promised.


End file.
